cicada

Chapter 1522 Cleanup
In Xinjing, in the same house, the old man stood in front of the bright gate, surrounded by a group of young ladies and wives wiping away tears. The young man lifted his clothes, knelt on the ground, and kowtowed three times to the old man.

“Father, please forgive your unfilial son for not being able to be by your side to show your filial piety. Please take good care of yourself while you are overseas.”

The old man stepped forward to help the young man up, patted him heavily on the shoulder, said nothing, and led him to a car.

"Go, go, the people who are waiting for you are already waiting at the Kwantung River dock. Remember what your father said, don't look back."

After uttering his last words, the old man saw his son off. At the same time, many high-ranking officials of the pseudo-mite organization also sent their children to the mountain city and other cities.

The Japanese couldn't possibly be unaware of such a major operation, but the Kwantung Army's intelligence agency acted as if they were deaf after learning of it, allowing these people to leave freely.

On the highway from Xinjing to Kwantung State, the young man breathed a sigh of relief as the scenery outside the window gradually changed from low houses to endless farmland.

To maintain secrecy, he did not travel by train this time, a decision that proved quite wise, as the soldiers at the city checkpoints only conducted a routine check before waving him through.

The young man, slightly relieved, placed his hand on the car window and greedily inhaled the air of his "hometown." This was the last time he would act as a "master" on this black soil, and his emotions were inevitably stirred.

The car sped along the bumpy road, the driver intently watching the road ahead. Bankrupt farmers occasionally walked by the roadside, and some even stretched out their hands to the car, begging for food.

"Pah, a bunch of Nikans."

The young man covered his nose with one hand and prepared to roll up the car window with the other, as if the very existence of these ordinary people was a form of pollution.

The crank kept turning, the car window slowly rose, but suddenly a ditch appeared on the road. The driver slammed on the brakes, and the car screeched to a halt.

Before the young man could ask any questions, several beggars on the roadside pulled out submachine guns from their pockets or sacks and fired them at the car.

Rat-a-tat-tat-tat. Shell casings ejected one after another from the ejection port, landing on the gravel ground.

Bullets pierced through the thin car door and glass and entered the car. The young man and the driver were instantly shot multiple times and fell to the ground. Cotton and sponge fragments were blown in all directions by the smoke and breeze, and a dark red stain quickly appeared below the car door.

Having landed a successful shot, the beggars turned and left without lingering, clearly confident in their marksmanship.

It wasn't until then that the surrounding people realized what was happening, but instead of shouting or panicking, they exchanged glances and tacitly walked toward the car.

In the pseudomites, death is a common occurrence; they are more concerned with whether they can fill their stomachs today than with corpses.

The crowd surged forward, looting the young man and driver of all their money and belongings. Some even dismantled the car, leaving only a patch of mud stained with blood.

Looking across the entire Northeast, as the young man breathed his last, several assassinations occurred in Xinjing and surrounding cities.

At Xinjing Railway Station, a rickshaw slowly stopped by the roadside. The driver turned around to call for passengers, only to find that the young woman who had been riding in the rickshaw was already dead. Blood trickled from the corners of her eyes and mouth, and her eyes were staring straight at the top of the rickshaw canopy.

At the Kwantung River pier, before the ship's horn had even finished sounding, a student carrying a suitcase plunged headfirst into the murky sea, instantly swallowed by the surging waves.

Inside the waiting hall of Fengtian Station, a scholar preparing to travel south leaned against a bench as if asleep. It wasn't until the train's whistle sounded that the passengers next to him realized that the scholar had stopped breathing.

The most sensitive assassination attempt occurred at the puppet palace. As soon as a departing Japanese prince stepped out of the palace gate, more than ten assassins disguised as passersby simultaneously drew their daggers and frantically stabbed the target and the patrolling Japanese and puppet troops and police before leaving unscathed.

Not only pseudo-mite, but also multiple upscale residences in cities such as Port City, New York, Chicago, London, Manchester, Paris, and Zurich were robbed on the same day.

The robbers used a variety of methods to enter the house: some kicked down the door, some impersonated police officers, some used master keys, and some even used bombs to eliminate bodyguards, completely disregarding collateral damage.

The killer was exceptionally cruel. He not only looted a large amount of property, but also interrogated some of the victims, and finally killed all the witnesses, leaving no survivors.

Because the killer's interrogation methods were so professional, intelligence agencies from some countries took over the follow-up work. Their investigations revealed that many of the victims were of Asian descent, and that these individuals had overt or covert connections with the pseudo-mite.

According to neighbors, most of these Asians immigrated to the area more than 30 years ago. They had no legitimate jobs but were extravagant and had good relationships with the local media and government.

In addition to the aforementioned robberies, another one occurred in Macau, where a businessman named Schnecker and more than ten companions were attacked by pirates at sea and all of them died.

During their investigation, Macau police discovered that Schneider and his accomplices were using false identities and that unregistered weapons were found in their residences.

On this day, the whole world was in chaos. Police and intelligence agencies in various countries were clueless and could only make large-scale arrests of gang members to search for clues.

Xinjing, Special Affairs Section of the Police Department.

Gao Bin sat behind his large desk, processing official documents. Not long ago, he was transferred from the Harbin Special Service Section to the Xinjing Special Service Section, where he remained as the section chief.

Although he had been promoted by half a rank, he was not in a good mood, especially after his predecessor, the head of the intelligence department, had been killed by a car bomb.

As the Japanese suffered defeats on all fronts, the Military Intelligence Bureau and the underground Communist Party became increasingly high-profile in their activities within the puppet regime, even openly recruiting puppet regime officials who had no blood on their hands.

However, this had nothing to do with Gao Bin and his men. If the Japanese were defeated, the first to die would be the Kwantung Army, and the second would be them.

The phone on the table rang. Gao Bin picked up the receiver, put it to his ear, and casually asked what was wrong.

"What? You said someone died??"

Upon hearing the report on the other end of the phone, Gao Bin immediately stood up. A high-ranking relative had been assassinated, and not just one. The Special Service Section was in big trouble!

After hanging up the phone, he composed himself and called upon his trusted confidants who had been transferred to Xinjing with him to prepare to go to one of the sites. But before setting off, Gao Bin caught a glimpse of someone out of the corner of his eye. After hesitating for a moment, he said to the person, "Section Chief Zhou, you stay in the section and wait."

Section Chief Zhou was a little surprised to hear this, but he still nodded: "Yes, Section Chief, please be careful with your men."

The convoy sped off from the Special Service Section towards the train station. Gao Bin appeared to be resting with his eyes closed in the back seat of the car, but in reality, he was thinking about Section Chief Zhou.

The other party had worked under him for many years, always fulfilling his duties and demonstrating a firm stance.

Gao Bin had originally intended to appoint him as deputy section chief, but Zhou had been involved in several recent failed operations, which made him doubt Zhou's loyalty.

"No, we have to get rid of that Zhou guy as soon as we get back."

After much deliberation, Gao Bin finally made a decision. He couldn't keep a suspicious person by his side; if that person stabbed him in the back at a crucial moment, he couldn't afford the consequences.

While they were pondering, the convoy arrived outside the train station. A large number of soldiers and police surrounded the rickshaws, and all the passersby were driven away.

Gao Bin got out of the car and asked the technicians who had arrived earlier, "How is the situation? Are there any clues about the murderer?"

He walked briskly to the rickshaw, peeked into the hood, and immediately felt a headache coming on, because the deceased was the daughter of a cabinet member.

The technician, uninterested in politics, replied truthfully: "It should be death by poisoning. There are no wounds on the body. Finding the way the poison was administered will lead to the murderer."

This answer was tantamount to saying nothing. Gao Bin's mind was pounding. He scanned the scene and saw a Japanese military vehicle parked on the roadside not far away.

Gao Bin pointed at the vehicle and shouted angrily, "What's going on here? Don't you know you need to cordon off the area? Get a driver here and move it away right now!"

“But this is a Japanese car.” The subordinate said hesitantly, without moving an inch.

"Go call someone! I'll take responsibility if anything goes wrong!" Gao Bin said angrily, venting all his pent-up rage.

"Yes, I'll go right away."

The subordinate dared not waste any more words and hurriedly ordered people to find the car owner, but the next second he heard Gao Bin's slightly trembling voice.

"Has this car not been moved since the incident?"

The agent shook his head blankly. Gao Bin's pupils suddenly contracted. With such a big incident, the car owner couldn't have missed it. Why didn't the other party move the car, or even watch?

Thinking of this, Gao Bin turned and ran without hesitation. This was a trap! A trap set for the investigators!

But just as he was about to make a move, the Japanese military vehicle seemed to be expanded by an invisible airflow, and the vehicle suddenly exploded, with sharp metal fragments flying rapidly in all directions, and a ball of flame engulfing the entire street corner.

Chief Zhou, far away in the Special Affairs Section, was cleaning his gun. Gao Bin's previous arrangements had made him sense a danger, but he couldn't leave because the mission wasn't over yet.

Suddenly, a low, muffled thud came from outside the window, making the glass vibrate. Section Chief Zhou quickly walked to the window and looked into the distance, where he saw a column of black smoke rising from the direction of the station.

Just as he was wondering, a call came in from the Kwantung Army Military Police Headquarters, and the Japanese on the other end informed him of some "bad" news.

"Zhou, the station's military police have reported that an explosion just occurred at the station. Gao was on the scene at the time. You need to reassure the members of the Special Service Section."

Section Chief Zhou opened his mouth wide but couldn't utter a sound; his expression was incredibly complex. Was Gao Bin dead?

This veteran agent, who had harmed countless comrades and sabotaged the organization's intelligence network in Northeast China several times, died just like that.
He silently put the microphone back in the receiver, plopped down in the chair, and his mind was a complete mess.

But Section Chief Zhou soon realized something: since Gao Bin and even the high-ranking officers of the Special Service Section who went with him were dead, wouldn't the command of the Special Service Section fall into his hands?
Realizing this, Section Chief Zhou laughed silently, but as he laughed, tears welled up in his eyes, and through his tears, the images of his fallen comrades appeared one by one before him.

If the underground party was experiencing a bittersweet feeling, then Adams, located in the mountain city, was only furious. After receiving intelligence from the fake mite, this OSS specialist remained silent for a moment before smashing the room to pieces.

Two days later, Zuo Chong received a secret list submitted by FIRC. The list consisted of hundreds of names and addresses from the Republic of China era, of the mysterious Asians killed by the robbers.

Under severe torture, even the most hardened person would have to confess, let alone pampered old men and their descendants. Compared to them, Jin Sanmei was more like a real man.

After reviewing the list, Zuo Zhong called Gu Qi over and ordered, "Kill them all, leave no one alive!" His voice was cold, and his face remained calm.

On the other side of the world, the US Navy heavy cruiser USS Indianapolis arrived at Tinian Island in the Mariana Islands. The US military unloaded a mysterious cargo from the ship and escorted it with heavy troops to a special assembly plant at the North Airport of Tinian Island.

In addition to warships, the U.S. military also transported mysterious items to Tinian Island via C-54 military transport aircraft, and these items were also found in the assembly plant.

The U.S. Air Force's 509th Composite Fighter Group, stationed on Tinian Island, also began training, with pilots repeatedly practicing high-altitude precision bombing, sharp turns, and high-speed escapes, drawing complaints from Army soldiers and Marines near the airport.

A U.S. Army major who had received FIRC funding sent a telegram to his family. The telegram was unremarkable in content, but it repeatedly mentioned the "scorching sun" in the area.

On August 4, 1945, Fu Ling received orders for the secret withdrawal of agents from the Military Intelligence Bureau and the FIRC to the mountains to await new instructions.

On the same day, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the Republic of China issued a routine warning to overseas Chinese in Japan via radio, citing the impending air raid by the US military, reminding them to stay away from major cities, but only a small number of overseas Chinese responded.

I originally wanted to describe the FIRST interrogation process in detail, but it's likely to be censored, so just understand.